Going On
by Onyx
Summary: I'm continuing my trend toward depressing fanfiction . This story takes place during the Buu saga at the point where Goku has returned to the afterlife, Vegeta has sacraficed himself, and Gohan is missing and presumed dead.


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(Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this story. Need I say more?) 

The young guardian of earth sat hunched over his glass of water, trying not to think. He knew that his world was in danger, perhaps doomed, he knew that the greatest protectors that his planet had were dead, and he knew that the fate of the planet he had sworn to protect rested on the shoulders of two young half-Saiyans that may or may not be strong enough to carry the burden. 

That was, of course, assuming that they could learn the complicated fusion technique in the first place...

Dende nearly jumped out of his chair when he heard a door slam. He sighed as he heard someone stomping down the hallway. Seconds later, a tall, caped figure stormed into the kitchen. Judging from the dark scowl on Piccolo's face, things were not going well at all. 

The older Namekkian took no notice of his younger counterpart. He instead turned to Popo. In strained voice, he snarled,"Popo, is there any coffee on this miserable water tower?" 

An expression of astonishment crossed the rounded features of the servant. "Piccolo-san, I didn't know that Namekkians drank coffee. Are you sure that it's safe?" 

Piccolo's features contorted into an even deeper scowl, something that Dende had not thought possible. "It's a lot safer than **I'll** be if I **don't** drink it," he hissed. 

Popo shrugged and handed the warrior a cup of thick, black liquid. Piccolo downed it in one gulp, tossed the cup aside, and made a visible effort to calm down. 

"So, Piccolo-san," Dende asked in his softest, most non-offensive voice,"how is the training coming?" 

Dende had seen Piccolo's withering glare many times, usually directed at an enemy. This time he found himself staring into those angry black eyes. "Those brats are hopeless. They inherited the worst from both their fathers," he growled in a voice that indicated that he was just barely controlling his formidable temper. "I am going to go get some peace and quiet before I kill one or both of the only two beings who stand a chance at winning this fight." 

Dende sighed yet again as he watched the older warrior disappear down the corridor. "Good luck, Piccolo-san," 

* * *

* * *

Piccolo stood on the very edge of the Tenkai despite the fact that the limited light provided by the stars made standing that close to the slick marble rim uncertain at best and dangerous at worst – to anyone who couldn't fly, anyway. He took no notice of the soft night breeze that teased his cape; he had eyes only for the myriad of small lights spread across the surface of his planet like so many more stars. To human eyes or even Saiyan eyes, the lights would be indiscernible as anything else; however, Piccolo knew them for what they were. They were fires left in the destructive wake of Buu. 

There was a time when he would have flown down to challenge the monster without a second thought. There was a time when he would have scorned this eternal waiting, when he would have laughed at the idea of leaving this battle to a couple of halflings. There was a time when he would have fought, not to protect the planet, but to preserve it for his own conquest. There was a time when he could have done so, failed, and felt no guilt or remorse.

There was a time when he would not have cared that he was alone, again. 

Those days were over. He knew that both Son and Vegeta had been stronger than he was, that Gohan had been stronger than any of them, and if they had failed, than anything short of the fusion would fail as well. A quick, direct battle was a luxury that he could not afford, no matter how much he wanted to get the whole ordeal over with. Yes, he knew that, but it didn't make the waiting any easier. 

"Vegeta, you wouldn't have waited, would you? You didn't. Then again, you really thought that you could win. Thanks to you, I know that a kamikaze won't work_. Kisama_, it should have been me. Now, fighting Buu wouldn't even be considered honorable, it would be taking the coward's way out." 

The Namekkian sighed, folding his arms. "And you, Son. You've gone again. Baka, how am I supposed to do this without you? If you couldn't beat him, then how can I? If I could have taken your place and let you stay here, I would have. This world needs the Super Saiyan Son Goku, not the Demon King. Dead or not, you're more of a warrior than I'll ever be, even though I'd never admit that to you or anyone else." Piccolo allowed one corner of his mouth to turn up slightly. "Heh. Don't worry, I'm not giving up. A lot of things about me have changed, mostly because of you, idiot, but my stubborn streak isn't one of 'em." This last part he murdered so softly that even he could barely hear it. 

"I know, this isn't the first time you've left us. There was that time during the Cell game, but even then we had Vegeta, the Mirai Trunks, and Gohan..." Piccolo's voice trailed off and his eyes closed as if he were in intense pain. 

"Gohan, kid, what can I say to you? I'm...I'm sorry. I wasn't there for you. The one time I wasn't around, you died. That's what it boils down to, ne?" The Namekkian shook his head fiercely, annoyed beyond words at the burning sensation in his eyes. I am not going to cry, he thought, even as he wiped away the single tear that trickled down his cheek. 

* * *

* * *

Krillen walked down the long, marble corridors of the Tenki as if he was a sleepwalker. All three of them, three of the greatest warriors in the universe, were dead. The planet needed them, and they were gone. Son Goku...his best friend...things had always seemed hopeless when he wasn't there. Gohan, too, was gone. Krillen couldn't help but be devastated; the little boy that he had watched grow into one of the greatest fighters in the universe, the child that he had seen become a man, had fallen to the evil that was trying to destroy the very planet that Gohan had lived to protect. The former monk wondered how Piccolo was taking it. 

"Man, even Vegeta's gone. This stinks! How can we win?" he wondered out loud. "The only Saiyans left are Goten and Trunks, and they're just kids! Tien, Yamcha and I won't be much help. There's no one left to fight Buu but a couple of first-graders!" 

Not quite, he admitted to himself. There are a couple of first-graders...and one Namekkian, but I'm not even sure that Piccolo can do much against that monster. Krillen pondered this for a moment. The monk ordinarily would have gone to talk to Goku at a time like this...but Goku was gone. He might have talked to Kami instead, but the wise old deity had merged with Piccolo...hmm. Krillen took a left, and walked into the kitchen. 

Goten and Trunks were sitting at the table, depleting the food supply in the Tenkai with alarming speed. Although he didn't think talking to them would do much good – if he was lucky, he'd get a couple of yes-or-no questions answered between mouthfuls - Krillen pulled up a chair and sat down. "How's it going?" 

Both young Saiyans looked up at him, looked at each other, and shrugged. "Not too well, Krillen," Trunks answered. "We've already messed up fusion-ha a couple of times." 

"Yeah, and I think Mr. Piccolo's getting mad. I've never heard him yell that loud, not even that time when dad accidentally dropped that can of blue paint on him," Goten supplied, his mouth stuffed with rice. 

Krillen sighed. The future of earth did not look hopeful. 

* * *

The former monk heard a soft sigh echo his own and turned to face the source. "Hey, Dende, I didn't know you were here." 

The young Kami lifted his slight shoulders in a shrug. "Hai, Krillen-san, I've been here for a while." 

"Um, do you know where I can find Piccolo? I want to ask him some questions," Krillen asked, feeling a bit strange. He had never before felt the need to seek out Piccolo; he usually took pains to avoid the volatile Namekkian. 

"He's gone outside to calm down, Krillen-san, but I wouldn't try to speak to him just now. I don't think that he's in a very good mood." 

"So what else is new?" Krillen muttered, walking toward the door. 

* * *

* * *

The monk didn't have to look very hard to find Piccolo, but then, he reflected, an eight-foot-tall green guy tended to be pretty conspicuous. Krillen stood in the arched marble doorway of the Tenki for a moment, staring at Piccolo's back, wondering how to get the warrior's attention without startling him. 

"Did you want something?" the Namekkian demanded harshly, not even bothering to turn around. 

Krillen was sure that he jumped at least three feet into the air. "I..uh...that is...how did you...?" 

He heard a disdainful snort. "Heard you coming from clear across the common. Why are you out here? Spit it out, you're wasting my time." 

Krillen winced. He had forgotten how sensitive the Namekkian's hearing was. "H..How is the training coming? Do you think they'll be able to win?" 

A low growl started in the back of Piccolo's throat. "Those two are strong, but they're also willful and undisciplined. Especially Vegeta's brat. And Goten...grrrr...I didn't think anyone could be as obnoxiously airheaded as Son Goku. Of course, his second son has proven me wrong." 

Krillen tried hard not to laugh. He had heard that tone from Piccolo many times, usually directed at either Goku or Gohan. He then recalled the reason that the two boys needed to learn fusion, and instantly his depression returned. There's nothing like the complete, impending destruction of the universe and everyone in it to somber you up, he thought ruefully. "Aren't they trying?" 

Piccolo's massive shoulders rose and fell. Krillen thought he heard a sigh. Man, we've all been sighing a lot lately "It's not that, not really. They're not focusing. You can hardly blame them, they've each lost a father today. They're not bad kids – intentionally, anyway - they're just...young. Too young, maybe." " 

"So was Gohan, but that didn't keep you from teaching him to..." Krillen trailed off when he saw the larger warrior stiffen, digging taloned fingers deep into already-scratched arms. "Sorry." 

"Yeah, forget it," the Namekkian said shortly. An uncomfortable (from Krillen's point of view, anyway) silence settled in. Piccolo showed no desire to break it; he continued to stare at the stars as if he expected some kind of message from them. 

Finally, the former monk walked forward until he stood beside the former Demon King, something he ordinarily avoided for two reasons. One was that, no matter how hard he tried to talk himself out of it, something about the alien continued to intimidate him. Sure, they'd been through a lot together. Yeah, he knew that Piccolo wouldn't hurt him. He even sort of liked the guy, but for some reason whenever the Namekian's eyes narrowed or his fangs were bared, the monk experienced a strong desire to be somewhere else. 

The other reason became apparent when Krillen looked up. Piccolo's remarkable height made the monk feel even shorter than he was. Good grief, I don't even come up to his belt. Krillen cleared his throat, then began. "We're really in it deep this time, eh? I can't believe we lost all three of 'em." 

Piccolo didn't interrupt, so Krillen continued. "Why is it us, Piccolo? Why is it always us, always this planet? Piccolo, I'm not even that strong, I know that. I'm weak compared to you and the Saiyans, how come I'm still alive and they're gone?" 

Piccolo glanced down at Krillen, slightly amused to hear his own questions echoed by this human. "Why us, runt? Because we're here, no other reason." 

Krillen looked at Piccolo out of the corner of his eye. "Gee, thanks. That's just what I needed to hear, something deep and meaningful to give me hope in these times. It's nice to know that the forces of the universe really do follow a pattern and that we weren't just randomly selected. I feel a lot better now." 

The monk heard a soft chuckle from the alien. "Sarcasm doesn't suit you, runt. You trying to fill in for Vegeta?" 

"Speaking of whom, I still can't believe that Vegeta sacrificed himself for this planet. Why would a jerk like that do what he did? It doesn't make any sense!" 

"Did you ask the same thing of me when I died that first time?" Piccolo asked softly, a note of ...what...sadness? in his voice. Krillen wasn't sure what to say to that, so he stayed silent. "Yes, runt. Vegeta was evil. So was I; some say that I still am. Evil had nothing to do with what Vegeta did, no more than it had with what I did." 

"You see, Krillen, Vegeta thought that he had no weaknesses. He told himself that he felt nothing, that he didn't care about anyone. Here's the big fault of lying to yourself, though...sometimes you succeed. Self-deception will get you into trouble a lot faster than any evil wizard can – believe me, I know. 

"Something happened out there, something that made Vegeta see the truth. Someone came along that threatened to take away all of those people that he didn't think he cared about. When he saw how important to him those people were, he did the only thing he could think of to protect them. 

"I really can't tell you for certain if he did that Kamikaze attack because he thought it would work, because he couldn't live with what he had become, or if he was trying to make up for all of the evil that he'd done. Maybe it was a combination of all of 'em. Guess we'll never know, or," the Namekkian actually chuckled, "we might be able to ask him a lot sooner than we'd care to." 

"You don't think we can do it, do you?" Krillen asked, his voice flat. Some part of Piccolo, probably some remnant of Kami, wanted desperately to dodge this question or to offer some ambiguous answer that would not take away the little human's hope. "I don't know, runt. I'm not going to give up though, not now, and not ever." 

Krillen nodded, just barely catching himself before he sighed again. "Too bad Goku's not here; he always managed to win, even when things were really bad. Let's face it, Piccolo, we're gonna need a miracle to beat the Majin." 

One corner of Piccolo's mouth curved up into a smile. "Hai, he and Gohan were always real good at attracting miracles..." Or maybe, Piccolo thought, they didn't attract miracles at all. Maybe they **_were _**the miracles, and you just wouldn't admit it. 

Very suddenly, Krillen saw the Namekkian look away. "Now beat it, runt, I've wasted enough time on you." 

Krillen smiled sadly, understanding. He had the strangest urge to put a hand on Piccolo's shoulder, something that he would have to levitate to do, and try to reassure him, for which he probably would have gotten backhanded. Instead, he turned to go. If he had noticed that the Namekkian's voice was huskier than usual or that tiny, green droplets of water were dripping steadily onto the Tenkai's flawless marble floor, he made no mention of either.


End file.
